


The Padfoot Sanctuary

by aartemesiaa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, But Given That It Is A Stupid-Ass Decision I Have Elected To Ignore It, Fluff, Fred Weasley Lives, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, I Recognise That Canon Has Made A Decision, I think I'm funny at least, Multi, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Canon, Severus Snape Lives, Sirius Black Lives, almost no angst, i guess, i lied there's some angst, it's partially about post-war rebuilding and a lot about found family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28999116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aartemesiaa/pseuds/aartemesiaa
Summary: Harry spends less than a week in the Hospital Wing after the Battle of Hogwarts. To be exact, he spends four days, seventeen hours, and thirty-two minutes in the Hospital Wing before he manages to annoy Madame Pomfrey into releasing him.-A story that's technically about home renovation, but mostly about healing.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 21
Kudos: 47





	1. 27th May, 1998

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please take note of the chapter titles for this fic if you want to know when things are happening lol

Harry spends less than a week in the Hospital Wing after what he's heard people call the Battle of Hogwarts. To be exact, he spends four days, seventeen hours, and thirty-two minutes in the Hospital Wing before he finally manages to annoy Madame Pomfrey into releasing him on the strict condition that he stop by daily so that she can monitor his recovery.

While he escaped the battle relatively unscathed - with the minor exception of having died - he'd spent a year on the run with very little in the way of food and shelter, and his already thin frame had become worryingly skinny; not to mention the burns that littered his skin after their misadventure at Gringotts. Madame Pomfrey assures him that he'll be right as rain with the help of several courses of nutrition potions, but the intervening time leaves one Boy-Who-Lived (Twice) on a strict rest and relaxation order.

Despite his eagerness to escape, Harry finds himself with little else to do besides spend his time in the Hospital Wing. While he's started sleeping in what remains of the Gryffindor dorms and taking meals in the Great Hall, Pomfrey has banned him from even attempting to help with the restoration of the castle, and he refuses to involve himself more than necessary with the chaos at the Ministry, which leaves him with the Hospital Wing as his refuge.

At first, he only sticks around to chat with the others who had been more injured than him, but when Madame Pomfrey declares herself sick of Harry invading her Hospital Wing for no good reason, she puts him to work. He's not very good to begin with, but he's useful as someone to do the menial tasks that take up more of Pomfrey's time than is good for anybody. Harry has always been a fairly quick study when he puts his mind to things, though, and it's not long before he picks up enough basic healing spells to deal with more minor injuries on his own and leave Pomfrey and the St Mungo's healers who had Floo'd in as soon as the battle had ended free to deal with more serious patients.

It takes a team of those healers nearly two straight days of work to stabilise Fred, and another five for him to regain consciousness. When he finally wakes, his first order of business is to crack a joke about someone should get Harry one of those muggle nurse outfits. Harry is so relieved that he forgets to be mad about it until the next day, whereupon he enacts swift, but petty, revenge. Fred doesn't appreciate his Slytherin-themed bandages and bedsheets, but Professor McGonagall - recovering from a variety of nasty curses in the bed next to Fred's - has a quiet chuckle about it. This being her equivalent to most people's uproarious laughter, Harry feels rather proud of himself.

Another reason why he sticks around at the Hospital Wing is the Malfoys.

Lucius, coward that he is, had disappeared as soon as Harry revealed that he was alive, but Narcissa and Draco had stayed and fought alongside the Order. Harry had vouched for them with the Ministry - well, with Kingsley, who counts as the Ministry at the moment - so they're being allowed to recover from their injuries in the Hospital Wing instead of a Ministry holding cell. The other Death Eaters had done quite a number on the Malfoys once they realised that they'd switched sides, but they'd managed to dodge the Killing Curses that had been sent their way.

Most of the other patients give them a wide berth. Harry can't blame them, but he does feel the need to compensate, especially since he technically owes them both a life debt. Consequently, he spends more time than he's entirely comfortable with chatting to Lady Malfoy and trying to make nice with Draco.

Lady Malfoy - Narcissa, she insists Harry call her - is a surprisingly agreeable woman in the absence of her husband, and takes to insisting that he has lunch with her as a way to ensure he eats semi-regular meals. Draco, on the other hand, barely says a word. It's unnerving, in a way; Draco has always been loud and obnoxious around Harry, and the silence doesn't suit him at all. Harry understands, though. Draco lost more than most to the war, including the father he'd idolised.

Oddly enough, Sirius - who'd taken quite the beating at the hands of his demented cousin - is also doing his best to get along with the Malfoys. When Harry asks him about it, he says, "We've all spent too much of our lives holding onto hatred, Harry. It'd be nice to have family besides you and Andy that don't hate me."

To Harry's complete lack of surprise, Sirius refuses to extend the same courtesy to one Severus Snape. Harry's own emotions are still conflicted about the man, despite using the last of his stash of phoenix tears (thanks, Fawkes) to save his life and realising that Snape had been working to keep him safe since he was eleven. 'Not actively trying to kill him' is still a pretty low bar, and Harry knows that there's going to be a lot of work involved on both of their parts to ever have some semblance of a functioning adult relationship. As it stands, Snape is still sleeping about twenty hours a day as he recovers, and the best Harry can do is stop Sirius from hexing Snape's pillows to try and eat his head too often.

Between recovering from his own injuries, babysitting Sirius and Snape, keeping the Malfoys company, and pulling as many hours as Madame Pomfrey allows at the Hospital Wing, he doesn't really think about returning to Grimmauld Place at all until Hermione brings it up a few weeks after the battle.

They're monitoring the Hospital Wing while Madame Pomfrey takes her first day off in weeks, the Wing finally empty enough to allow her to spend a well-deserved day with her wife. The St Mungo's healers had returned to the hospital a few days ago with some of the more long-term patients in tow, Fred and Snape among them, and it's mostly a matter of time until the rest of the patients from the battle are completely healed. Not that the Wing will empty after that, mind, since a steady influx of injuries keep coming in from the restoration projects every day. Harry's nearly out of burn paste already, and he can only hope that they're close to finishing the projects that are liable to literally blow up in people's faces.

"Harry," Hermione starts, in that tone of voice that Harry recognises as the one she uses whenever she suggests something he won't like. He's suddenly glad that they're behind the warded privacy curtains that surround Sirius' bed, and that Sirius is asleep.

"Hermione," he mimics her tone, quickly redressing the potion-laced bandages on Sirius' arms. The cuts seem to be healing well, he notes. The latest version of the potion Slughorn has concocted must have finally started taking effect against whatever nasty cures Bellatrix had hit him with.

"Harry, it's been nearly a month since the war ended and you haven't been home at all," she says as she checks Sirius' leg. His broken tibia is also healing slowly - unable to be healed the magical way thanks to whatever Bellatrix had done to it.

"It's not like I have anywhere besides Hogwarts I can call _home,_ 'Mione," he says shortly. It isn't pleasant to think about, but it's the truth.

"The Burrow - "

"No," he cuts her off. "I'm not imposing on them like that, not so soon."

"Then Grimmauld Place - "

"No," he says again. "Sirius is still here, Remus isn't there either - last I checked he was working on Raveclaw Tower, and he's been sleeping here too. There's no point in going back there, the only living thing in the house right now is Sirius' bloody mum."

Hermione smiles ruefully, no doubt reminiscing on the delightful pet names Walgburga Black's portrait had bestowed upon her. "Mudblood," "Filth," and, "Stain on the house of my ancestors," had been particular favourites.

"I suppose you're right. Still, you should get out of Hogwarts for a bit, you've been working yourself to the bone here," she presses. "I'm in the same situation as you, in case you've forgotten. Bill and Fleur invited me to stay with them, they'd love to have you too."

Harry is shaking his head before Hermione even finishes her sentence. He loves Bill and Fleur, and under normal circumstances he wouldn't hesitate to accept their offer, but he doesn't think he can face being so close to Dobby's grave. "I can't, 'Mione. Not yet."

Her face softens with sympathy. "Of course. Just, talk to Remus maybe?" she suggests. "See if he'll come back to Grimmauld with you. Merlin knows the place still needs fixing up, it'd be nice if you two - and Sirius, when he can - turned it into a proper home." She grins suddenly, the streak of mischief that few people know she possesses shining through. "Not to mention it'd piss of Sirius' mum something awful, and I can't say I wouldn't enjoy it."

Harry laughs half-heartedly. "I'll think about it," he promises.

He doesn't really intend to keep that promise, but as he finishes his rounds - Padma's burns are healing nicely, Seamus' scars are starting to fade, Professor McGonagall is still complaining loudly, but not seriously, about being held against her will, Narcissa is pleasant and Draco is quiet - he can't stop Hermione's words from echoing in his head. _"A proper home."_

Harry supposes that he's long overdue for a proper home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i about to project my fantasies of home ownership and being able to spend time with my friends onto harry? yes, absolutely. covid is rough, y'all.
> 
> i have a few chapters of this pre-written, so check for an update in a few days :D they'll slow down once updates catch up with my writing speed though, so be warned
> 
> comments make a happy writer, and happy writers are faster writers :D


	2. 6th June, 1998

Harry and Remus hesitate at the doorstep of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Neither are particularly eager to see what's inside - especially after Harry, Ron, and Hermione had inadvertently led a Death Eater past the wards during their escape from the Ministry. Harry has finally managed to force himself out of the castle and persuade Remus to come back to the house with him after seeing how tired his honourary godfather looks.

Most of the people involved in the battle have already started to look better - even Harry has started inching towards a healthy weight thanks to the combined efforts of Narcissa and Madame Pomfrey - but Remus still looks as pale and tired as he had during the war. It's partially the approaching full moon, Harry knows, but he's also been working harder than anyone since the battle; working on the restorations to the castle, patrolling the grounds (since the wards are still damaged), and working with Kingsley at the Ministry to undo the discriminatory legislature that was left over from the Death Eaters' brief takeover - and a fair bit that predated any Death Eater involvement in the Ministry.

Harry, ever the Gryffindor and without a jacket in the cold summer morning, casts a quick _alohomora_ on the door and tries the handle, letting out an unsteady breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding as the door swings open with a crack. "Age before beauty," he jokes weakly, stepping aside to let Remus in.

It's a poor attempt at humour that Sirius would have mocked him for (if he hadn't made the joke first, that is), but Remus laughs anyway. "Good to know you didn't completely forget your manners while living in a tent," he returns, stepping over the threshold with only the slightest hint of fear in his eyes.

No disaster immediately befalls them as they stand in the dark hallway, waiting with trepidation for the ceilings to collapse, or for some trap to ensnare them. The oppresive silence is disturbed only by the ticking and tocking of the grandfather clock in the parlour, and the snoring of the portraits on the walls.

Remus lets out a sight of relief, muttering a spell under his breath to light the candles in the dusty chandeliers, along with half a dozen other spells to detect wards and curses. His voice is quiet, but it sounds loud in the silence of the house, and it makes Harry flinch. He half-expects it to trigger a curse, or set off an alarm, but the hallway remains as dim and unmoving as ever.

The pair make their way to the hub of their wartime strategizing, the kitchen, almost on instinct. They find that it, too, is just how they'd left it in their hasty departure. The old kettle still has tea in it, and the fireplace is still full of half-burned firewood and ashes. Kreacher didn't time to clean up before getting Sirius and Remus out, Harry remembers. As soon as Ron's splinched arm had been patched up, he'd called for the elderly house elf and let him know about their unexpected visitor. It was a testament to how much Sirius and Kreacher's relationship had improved that the elf didn't hesitate to apparate the two men out of the house as fast as he could. The three of them had spent the rest of the war working out of the Tonks house, protected by layers of powerful charms.

"I guess Yaxley mustn't have wanted to disturb the house of an old pureblood family," Harry mumbles to himself.

Remus nods in agreement, moving more confidently as he _scourgify-s_ the table, removing the thick layer of dust that formed in their absence. "Not to mention the Black family were renowned for their knowledge of the dark arts, he probably didn't want to fuck around with anything in case it was cursed," he says wryly.

Harry is still getting used to one of his former professors swearing so casually around him. They'd spent months living together at Grimmauld Place, and months longer communicating via Sirius' mirror while the trio were on the run, but it's hard to process that jumper-wearing, soft-spoken Professor Lupin has the mouth of a sailor and can out-prank Sirius and the twins combined if the urge strikes him.

"To be honest, I don't really fancy fucking around with the stuff in the unused rooms either," Harry replies. "It's going to have to get cleared out sooner or later though, and the idea of destroying a bunch of Black family heirlooms will make Padfoot's day."

Remus snorts. "That it will. He'll go mad with power now that Molly won't be around to stop him from throwing everything out."

Harry can't stop the grin that forms at the idea of a madly-cackling Sirius Black gleefully dancing around a bonfire of his ancestors' possessions. "He's already been going mad with power in the Hospital Wing, Remus. Do you know how many times Pomfrey's had to confiscate his wand because he was making the beds waltz?"

"Ah, young one, that is madness born of boredom, not power," Remus tells him, faux-seriously. "You've yet to see the latter, and it's much worse."

"I shudder to think," Harry laughs.

He quickly grows bored of leaning against the damp-infested wall of the kitchen and busies himself with investigating the pantries. To his dismay, not even the stasis charms that had been added by one of Sirius' least abhorrent ancestors, who had apparently seen the value of the muggle fridge, can keep food edible for the eight months or so that they'd been gone.

"The only edible thing left is the sugar," he announces. "We'll have to go shopping when we move back in."

Remus appears in the doorway, an uncharacteristic scowl on his scarred face. "My chocolate is gone."

"What?"

"My _chocolate is gone._ Yaxley must have nicked it, the absolute wanker."

Harry can't help himself. He bursts into laughter, one hand grasping a shelf for support as he bends double. Remus' face shifts from a scowl to a look of deepest betrayal.

"Prongslet! This is serious!" Remus complains despite the twitch at the corner of his lips and the amused glint in his eyes. "He won't do our dishes or tidy the place, but _my fucking chocolate_ is fair game, apparently!"

Harry musters the willpower to stand straight and force his expression into a stern frown. "You're right, Remus, these crimes against Moony-kind cannot be allowed to stand! Never mind that Yaxley was a Death Eater and almost definitely a murderer, this is the most heinous crime a wizard could possibly commit!"

Neither can keep a straight face any longer, breaking character to laugh until their lungs hurt. "That's not what I meant and you know it, you little shit," Remus wheezes.

The smile on Harry's face drops as he takes in how out of breath Remus is just from laughing. "Come on, this place is full of dust, let's go check out the rest of the house," he offers.

"Ah yes, the rest of the house, which is absolutely not going to be even dustier than the parts of the house that were actually used in the last two decades," Remus snarks, but follows after Harry anyway as he heads back out into the hallway.

They make quick work of the rest of the house, not wanting to spend any more time than necessary dwelling on the memories it holds. They work top to bottom, casting cursory cleaning charms as they go and making note of the work that needs to be done in each room. _Damp, mould, cursed wardrobe, house elf heads, doxies moved in again, more damp, more mould._ It becomes repetitive after a while.

Harry pointed makes himself busy as Remus examines the cupboard under the stairs, and Remus carefully avoids touching anything silver. Neither of them comment, just quietly accomodate for the other.

They pause at Sirius' old bedroom for a moment before deciding, unspoken, that it can wait until Sirius is out of the Hospital Wing.

Naturally, they're nearly free of the house when disaster strikes. In the grand scheme of disasters ranging from 'stubbed toe' to 'Voldemort having a secret eighth horcrux and using it to reanimate himself _again',_ it definitely ranks closer to the inconvenient end of the scale than the potentially-apocalyptic, but the glare Remus shoots Harry as his sneeze wakes Walburga's portrait has all the force of a Killing Curse.

"Great job, Prongslet," he groans, sprinting back upstairs to the screeching portrait. Harry follows hot on his heels, shooting stunning spells as he goes to quiet the other portraits who'd taken Walburga's lead to start a cacophony of parentage-related insults. The pair grab a curtain each, forcing them closed again and breathing a joint sigh of relief as the portrait is forced silent.

"Tonks would be proud of you for that one, Harry," Remus jokes once they're safely free of the house.

"High praise," Harry returns, shooting him an exhausted grin, "but if Tonks were here, she'd have set off Walburga, waited until we'd got the stupid curtains closed, and _then_ fallen down the stairs and started the whole thing again."

Remus laughs. "Very true. Come on, I promised Arthur we'd stop at the Burrow for dinner," he says. "Fred finally got sick of having his whole family fussing over him twenty-four seven, apparently, and Molly needs something to keep her busy so she's been cooking to feed an army."

* * *

Harry still hates apparition, might have actually come to hate it more since he started to associate it with running from Snatchers and Death Eaters in the middle of the night, but the promise of Mrs Weasley's cooking is enough to brighten his mood even as his poor aim lands him in the Weasleys' pond. Remus' laughter brings three Weasleys out to investigate, Mr Weasley and Charlie first with Ginny following behind, all with wands drawn and pointing in their direction. It will take a long while yet for the war reflexes to fade from people's memories.

Mr Weasley and Charlie approach the pair cautiously. "Remus, how did you introduce yourself and your friends to me when we first met?" Mr Weasley asks.

Remus flushes. "I said, 'I'm Remus, this is my boyfriend Sirius, his boyfriend James, and James' wife Lily'," he answers.

Mr Weasley cracks the barest hint of a smile before training his wand on Harry, who is still knee-deep in the pond. "Harry, what did I tell you when Ginny wrote to tell me and Molly that you were her boyfriend?"

It's Harry's turn to flush. He hasn't told Ginny - or anyone - about the letter her dad had sent him after he and Ginny had gotten together, and they haven't had time since the battle to talk about their relationship. "To treat her well, and that you," he swallows thickly, "that you were proud to officially be able to call me one of your sons."

Mr Weasley's expression softens, and he and Charlie lower their wands, but Harry's attention is on Ginny. She looks dumbstruck. "You never told me that," she says, barely loud enough for Harry to hear.

He smiles at her, sheepish. "I didn't really plan on it, to be honest," he admits. "Can we talk about this when I'm not up to my knees in pond water?"

Ginny nods reluctantly, summoning her broom from its shed - the Ministry have been rather lax on underage magic recently, given the circumstances - and hovering over the pond as she pulls Harry onto the back. "You know, that pond only comes up to my calves," she laughs. He pouts briefly, but her laughter is contagious, and he finds himself relaxing more than he has in months in her presence.

They land next to Remus and the other Weasleys - doubled in number since the first three had lowered their wands - and Harry is enveloped in Mrs Weasley's warm hug as soon as he dismounts the broom. He immediately relaxes into the embrace, relishing in the affection.

"Harry, dear, how've you been?" she asks as she releases him. "You're looking better, still much too skinny though. Come in, dinner's almost ready."

She ushers the group towards the house, Harry and Ginny trailing behind the adults. Harry can hear snatches of their conversation, Mr Weasley asking Remus about the state of Grimmauld Place, but the silence between them is heavy.

"So..."

"So..."

They both begin simultaneously and break off in unison, laughing awkwardly.

"So," Harry starts again. "How've you been? Since the battle?"

"Okay, I guess," Ginny says. "Spent a couple of days in the Hospital Wing, which you know." Harry does know, he'd had the bed across from hers, but the stress of not knowing whether Fred would make it hadn't left them with much room for casual conversation. "Then once I got out, I helped get some of the kids that couldn't leave settled at Hogwarts before heading back here." She rolls her shoulders back, as though shrugging off some invisible weight. Harry can't help but watch the way her muscles shift. "Been splitting my time between here and St Mungo's ever since."

"How's Fred doing now?" Harry asks. "I haven't heard much of anybody since they left the Hospital Wing."

"Doing better," she says, smiling. "He's still sleeping a lot, but the Healers said that's normal for people who are recovering from curse t-trauma." She stumbles over her words, but forges on. "George and Percy are keeping him company - Percy's barely left, I think he feels guilty because he was there."

Harry shakes his head. "He couldn't have stopped it," he tells her. "I spoke to Healer Reyes in the Hospital Wing and she said nobody without an extensive medical education could have known how to counteract that curse in time to save him. She was surprised Remus could even slow it down."

"You should tell him that," Ginny suggests. "When you see him. Maybe he'll listen to you."

Harry is hit with the realisation, suddenly, that he's been burying his head in the sand. He's made a hidey-hole out of the Hospital Wing and practically moved into it to avoid facing the overwhelming knowledge that people are still looking at him - looking _to_ him.

"Yeah, I'll try," he agrees. "Hermione said she's staying at Bill and Fleur's," he mentions.

Ginny brightens at the change of topic. "Yeah, they've extended the house to make room for people who don't have anywhere else to go," she says. "Fleur set it all up."

Harry raises his eyebrows at her overall lack of disdain for her sister-in-law. _"'Fleur'?"_ he quotes. "When did she graduate from 'Phlegm'?"

Ginny shoves him gently, laughing as he stumbles. Ginny's definition of gentle is somewhat warped, thanks to years of quidditch and being related to Fred and George. "She's not so bad," she admits. "I though she was all stuck up and _French-y,_ but we actually get on alright now."

"I'm glad," Harry says.

"Me too," she agrees, smiling softly.

"Enough canoodling, you two!" Ron's voice comes from the kitchen, and Ron soon follows it. He pulls Harry into a hug as soon as they're close enough. "How've you been, mate?" he asks.

"Alright, yeah," Harry answers. "Hermione and Pomfrey joined forces to kick me out of the Hospital Wing, so me and Remus went to check out Grimmauld Place earlier."

Ron grimaces sympathetically. "How bad was it?"

"Yaxley basically left the place alone," Harry says. "Guess he didn't want to risk getting cursed by all the dark shit the Blacks had. Scoffed Moony's chocolate though, he's fuming."

Ron laughs; the first proper belly laugh Harry has heard since the war ended. He'd missed it. "Good to know he's still got his priorities straight."

"Mate, it's Remus. Nothing about him is straight."

Ginny boos him even as Ron laughs. "You two've been spending too much time with Sirius if you actually thought that joke was funny," she tells them. "Come on, I want to eat before Charlie gets to all the good stuff."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm fully convinced that sirius is the person who only thinks bad jokes are funny when he makes them
> 
> chapters three and four are prewritten so they'll probably get posted soon, three is short but four is longer so hopefully they'll even out
> 
> comments make a happy writer and happy writers are faster writers :D


	3. 7th June, 1998

"You weren't here yesterday," Narcissa observes as Harry pours tea for the both of them. He's taking advantage of a brief lull in Hospital Wing activity to take a break, and Narcissa had insisted that he join her for tea.

"Me and Remus went to check out the old Black house in Grimmauld Place," he explains. "We used it as a base for a while until I accidentally Side-Alonged Yaxley past the Fidelius."

"I remember that house," Narcissa says. "I used to visit quite often before Aunt Walburga passed. It was always a rather dreary place."

"Twenty-odd years of being mostly abandoned hasn't helped," Harry tells her. "The place is covered in damp and mould, half the curtains are infested with doxies, and we can't go ten feet without tripping over something cursed. We managed to make a few of the rooms habitable when the Order started using it, but most of the house is still a tip."

"I used to hate visiting Great Aunt Walburga," Draco says. Harry starts, unused to hearing him speak voluntarily any more. While Harry and Narcissa are sitting in chairs, Draco is still confined to his bed as his body recovers from a Wasting Curse he'd taken for his mother. "She used to scream bloody murder at me if I made too much noise, and she was always ranting about how the House of Black were the purest and most noble family left in Britain."

Harry chuckles. "That sounds like her. She's got a portrait hanging in the hall that we have to be careful around; if anyone makes too much noise, she wakes up and starts yelling blood slurs at anyone who's unfortunate enough to be around."

"Why not just take the portrait down, Potter?" Draco asks. Harry has been trying to convince Draco to call him Harry, but he's yet to succeed. Harry knows he'll wear him down eventually, though. Hermione wasn't wrong on the many, many occasions that she's called him infuriatingly pig-headed.

"Permanent Sticking Charm," Harry says. "She's not coming down until the wall does."

Draco fixes him with a stare that plainly says he thinks Harry is an idiot of the highest order. "And why can the wall _not_ come down?"

Harry gapes. "...Because we didn't think of that?" he offers tentatively.

Draco rolls his eyes. "It's a wonder you survived the war," he mutters.

"All credit to Hermione there, mate," Harry grins. "And technically, I didn't."

"Oh, piss off with your 'technicallys'," Draco grumbles.

"Did you spend all day at Grimmauld Place?" Narcissa asks before Harry and Draco can devolve into their customary childish bickering.

"Most of it, but we went to the Weasleys' for tea," Harry says. "Ever since Fred told her off for fussing over him all the time, Mrs Weasley's been taking out her excess worry by cooking for all of magical Britain."

Narcissa laughs airily. "I can't say that I blame her, I can only imagine the state I'd be in if it had been Draco in that situation." She pauses to take a sip of her tea, prompting Harry to do the same. "How are the rest of the family?" she asks cautiously.

He hesitates before answering. "Coping," he settles on. "They're all keeping busy in their own way."

"That's good," Narcissa says. "I heard that the eldest son, Bill?" She waits until Harry nods in confirmation before continuing. "I heard that he's been taking in those who don't have anywhere else to go home to."

"Ginny said it was mostly Fleur who set that up, actually," Harry corrects her. "Bill's been busy with Fred and trying to smooth over relations with goblins since they didn't exactly appreciate the Death Eaters implementing their own security at Gringotts."

"I can't imagine they did, no," Narcissa muses. "It's a good thing of Fleur to do, though. I remember the end of the last war was a disaster in that regard, nobody had the resources to help magical orphans or those whose homes had been destroyed. There was quite the scandal when it was discovered that the Ministry had actually managed to lose track of half a dozen magical children."

To be honest, Harry's not surprised. Disappointed, sure, but not surprised. "I'll mention it to Kinsgley when I see him next, make sure the Ministry gets something sorted sooner rather than later."

"It will be no small job," Narcissa warns. "The magical community has always relied on family connections to house its orphans and its homeless. Somehow, I doubt that approach will work given the sheer amount of loss we have suffered."

"I don't think so, no," Harry says. "We'll figure something out, though."

Narcissa smiles at him. "I have no doubt that you will, Harry."

The Hospital Wing's clock chimes, pulling Harry out of their conversation as he remembers that he still has a job to do. "You'll have to excuse me, Lady Malfoy," he apologises. "Sirius' bandages need redressing."

"How many times will I have to remind you to call me Narcissa?" she asks archly as Harry rises from his chair.

Harry shoots her a cheeky grin. "At least one more time, Lady Malfoy."

He doesn't so much see as he does feel Draco's eye-roll. "Stop flirting with my mother and go tend to your dogfather, Potter," he commands, as imperiously as one can when lying in a Hospital Wing bed. It isn't very imperious, but Harry sees no reason to deprive Draco of the joys of ordering him around.

"Your wish is my command, Draco," he teases, easily deflecting his worst-tempered patient's stinging hex. (He'd quietly returned Draco's wand a few weeks ago, with an unspoken agreement that they wouldn't inform the Ministry.)

He's still grinning as he opens the privacy curtains around Sirius' bed. Sirius, recognising the look on Harry's face, grins back.

"My little cousin still not warming up to you?" he asks.

"He's getting there, he just likes to pretend he doesn't find me wildly entertaining," Harry answers. A shout of protest can be heard from the direction of Draco's bed, which both Harry and Sirius ignore. "He did give me a good idea about the house, though."

Sirius groans. "If it's not about getting rid of my blasted mother, I don't care," he grumbles.

"It is."

Sirius almost sits up in shock, but seems to think better of it as Harry shoots him a warning look. Weeks of working in the Hospital Wing has finally made him understand what he'd put Madame Promfrey through during his six years at Hogwarts, and he's already resolved to give her the biggest gift basket Honeydukes will sell him once he finds the time. And possible several bottles of firewhiskey for good measure.

"You're telling me that _Draco_ managed to figure out how to get rid of that fucking portrait before any of us?" Sirius asks, incredulous.

"That's the thing," Harry says, "we were all so focussed on getting rid of the painting that we didn't think of the obvious."

Sirius frowns at his godson. "The obvious?"

"The wall."

The way Sirius' jaw drops when he realises what Harry is implying makes Harry wish he had a camera. "The wall," he repeats. "We don't have to remove the portrait..."

"If we just remove the wall entirely," Harry finishes for him.

"We're idiots," Sirius concludes.

"Absolute buffoons."

"Simpletons."

"Fools."

"Plonkers."

"Halfwits."

"Utter nincompoops," Sirius finishes. "How cross do you think Remus will be when we tell him?"

"So cross," says Harry. "The most cross."

Sirius whines pitifully, sounding disturbingly similar to his animagus form. "Do we _have_ to tell him?"

"We can wait until after the moon," Harry concedes. "But we can't keep it from him any longer. Moony can sniff out bullshit even faster than McGonagall."

"Fair point," Sirius agrees. "Now change my bandages, peon." He holds out a bandage-covered arm for Harry's attention, and Harry is struck by the resemblance between Sirius' expression and Draco's. Harry has a feeling that when Draco finally removes the stick from his arse, he and Sirius are going to get along entirely too well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this one's really short, but i'm only doing one day per chapter so some are going to be shorter than others :D next chapter is way longer to make up for it, and that should be going up by the end of the week


	4. 15th June, 1998

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place is not one of those places that grows on you, Harry is discovering. It's just as unpleasant to stand on the doorstep a second time, and he can tell by the look on Sirius' face that his godfather is already contemplating turning around.

"Come on, Pads," Harry says softly, pushing the door open. He pretends not to notice the way Sirius' death grip on Remus' hand tightens as they cross the threshold together.

He's not exactly sure why he expected anything different, but he's mildly surprised to find the house exactly as he and Remus left it a few weeks ago - with the addition of an extra layer of dust, that is.

Sirius shoves past, muttering something that sounds like, "Let's get this over with," under his breath. Harry and Remus exchange worried glances behind his back, but trail after him towards the wall that holds his mother's portrait. Hopefully, getting rid of the portrait will make the house more bearable for him.

When Sirius had been given a clean bill of health by Pomfrey on Thursday, the first thing he'd wanted to do was destroy the wall holding his mother's portrait. Even free of the Hospital Wing, however, it had taken him a few days to regain his strength, and Remus had insisted that they do things properly and make sure that destroying the wall wouldn't bring the whole house down on them. Sirius, of course, didn't see an issue with that, but what Moony wants, Moony gets.

Remus, Bill, and Mr Weasley had been to the house yesterday to make sure that the wall was safe to remove, and if Harry focuses, he can see the faint shimmer of the protective charms they had cast.

"Harry, you ready?" Remus asks as he and Sirius take their places at either edge of the wall. Harry nods, putting up a quick _protego_ to protect them from any falling debris.

As though by some unspoken agreement, Sirius and Remus speak in unison. _"Bombarda maxima."_

The blast is loud enough to send Harry ducking behind the balustrade for protection. Sirius and Remus flinch away, too, but the shield charm holds. Chunks of brick bounce harmlessly off the charm as the wall crumbles, taking the portrait down with it. The blast, of course, wakes its hateful inhabitant, whose shrieks reach levels of ear-splitting hitherto unknown to wizard kind as she realises what, exactly, is happening.

It’s with a vicious kind of glee that Sirius sends the strongest silencing charm he can muster towards the portrait, laughing as it falls quiet. She’s already set off the other portraits, but those are quickly taken care of with stunning and silencing spells.

"What are we going to do with her now?" Harry asks once the dust settles, both figuratively and literally.

"We could try Vanishing her?" Remus suggests.

Harry frowns. "Why didn't we just do that earlier instead of taking the whole wall out?" he asks.

Sirius levels him with a mildly judgemental look that eerily reminds Harry of Hermione. "McGonagall and Flitwick won't be happy to know that you've forgotten their lessons so quickly," he tells Harry. "The Permanent Sticking Charm makes it so that the object and the thing it's attached to are treated as one and the same by magic - in this case, the house. Trying to Vanish it when the wall was still intact would have just Vanished this whole place."

"If it even worked," Remus jumps in. "The larger an object is, the harder it is to Vanish. Trying to Vanish a house, even accidentally, would probably result in nothing but severe magical exhaustion for the caster."

"But now that it's only attached to part of the wall, it'll be much easier to Vanish!" Sirius finishes.

"We still need to deal with the rest of the portraits," Remus reminds him reluctantly. "We don't know how many of them have Sticking Charms on them, either."

"Only one way to figure that out," Harry says. He turns to the portrait nearest him and lifts it off its hook. It comes away from the wall easily, the man in the portrait not even stirring from his spell-induced sleep. "Huh, I didn't think that would work."

"I doubt it'll be that easy for all of them," Remus says.

Surprisingly, only a few portraits give them any trouble. After Vanishing Walburga's portrait, which looks like it lifts several years of weight from Sirius' shoulders, the rest of the portraits along the stairs come down with shocking ease, but some of the ones in the other rooms are more problematic. Sirius' father especially, whose portrait they find in a room that Sirius informs them was once Orion Black's study. His portrait is also attached to the wall by a Permanent Sticking Charm, and Sirius takes just as much joy in destroying the wall in the study as he did on the stairs.

Finding and removing the portraits takes them most of the afternoon, and by the time Harry reunites with his godfathers in the kitchen, they’re all exhausted. Sirius is by far the worst off, given that it hasn’t been a week since he was released from the Hospital Wing, and Harry glares at him until he finishes every drop of the potions Pomfrey gave him.

"You're getting as bad as Pomfrey," Sirius quips as he finishes his last potion.

"Every day I have to deal with you, I understand her more," Harry tells him, not quite joking.

"You wound me, Prongslet," Sirius pouts. "Moony's been a bad influence on you."

"Excuse you, I'm a fucking delight," Remus says from the stove, where he's reheating the soup that they'd brought with them. (courtesy of Molly Weasley, naturally).

"Of course you are, oh light of my life," Sirius grins. Remus rolls his eyes, but blushes anyway. Harry mimes vomiting behind Sirius' back, feigning innocence as his godfather turns around. Sirius doesn't buy it for a second - he'd been friends with James Potter for far too long not to recognise that face.

The kitchen falls silent as they eat - it's strange, all of them had gotten used to the chaos of eating in the Great Hall with the people working on the restorations. It's weighing on Sirius, Harry can see. With the adrenaline of finally destroying his family's portraits wearing off, Sirius seems to retreat into himself, tension returning to his shoulder and his eyes regaining the same hardness that they'd had during the war.

Harry reaches out to touch Sirius' hand gently, wincing as he flinches away. "You okay, Pads?" he asks.

Sirius is very clearly not okay, but he sets his jaw in that stubborn way that means he's going to deny everything until he physically can't stop himself. "I'm fine, Harry," he says, like a liar.

Harry looks to Remus for backup, who shrugs helplessly. As much power as Remus holds over Sirius (a lot), even he can’t convince Sirius to talk before he's ready when he gets into one of his moods.

It’s not until late evening that Sirius finally cracks. They’d decided beforehand to try staying overnight, to see if they could deal with living in Grimmauld Place again, but as they head up the newly-empty staircase, Sirius grinds to a halt in front of Harry.

"I can't do this," he blurts out.

Remus, bringing up the rear, pushes past Harry to wrap an arm around his partner. "You can’t stay?" he asks, his voice soft and gentle, as though he was talking to a scared child.

Sirius lets out a sound that’s almost a sob. Harry wants to reach out and comfort him, but he knows that Remus is what Sirius needs right now.

"I-I'm sorry, I just – I can't," he stutters out. "I wanted to, I wanted to make it work for – for you and Harry, but I can't stop thinking about everything. The wars, my parents, Reg-" his voice catches in his throat, "-Regulus."

Remus pulls Sirius into a crushing hug, supporting the other man's weight almost entirely as he sinks into Remus' arms. He runs a hand through Sirius’ hair, the same way Harry used to when he and Ginny were both sitting awake in the common room, plagued by nightmares.

"Shhhh, Pads, you're okay, _ti'n iawn,"_ he whispers, slipping into Welsh. Sirius slowly relaxes, his breaths evening out as Remus continues to murmur under his breath.

Harry decides that they probably don't need him for this, and awkwardly shuffles past them to collect the things they'd left upstairs. When he returns, three bags in hand, he finds his godfathers in the parlour, home of the only Floo-connected fireplace in the house. Sirius, thankfully, looks a lot more composed as he takes his bag from Harry, offering up a quiet, "Thank you, Prongslet."

When Remus had been released from the Hospital Wing, Professor McGonagall had insisted that he take one of the old Professor's living quarters, and as soon as Remus realised that Harry was still sleeping in the half-destroyed Gryffindor tower, he'd insisted that Harry join him. Returning to their quarters is like a breath of fresh air after the oppressive atmosphere of Grimmauld Place.

As they settle in for the night, properly this time, Sirius approaches Harry. "I’m so–" he starts, but Harry interrupts before he can finish his sentence.

"If you’re going to apologise, don’t," he says. At Sirius' wide-eyed expression, he explains. "You don't need to apologise for not being able to go back to that house. I can't imagine how I'd react if I had to back to the Dursleys."

Sirius sighs. "I know it's not something to be ashamed of, or something that I can help. It's just…" He leans against the doorframe wearily. "I've been trying to give you a home since you were thirteen, Harry, and now that I finally have the chance, I can't do it because of my _stupid fucking family._ It feels like I failed."

Tugging Sirius into a hug is more instinct than conscious choice. "You didn't fail, Sirius," Harry whispers. "Not at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this wasn't the chapter i intended to post. i was all set to post the chapter after this, then realised that i needed this chapter to exist to explain some plot things. so i had to go back and write a whole new chapter four. joy. the only upside to this is that i have chapter five written so look out for that probably tomorrow!
> 
> all the stuff about permanent sticking charms was made up by me for plot reasons because she who must not be named gave us nothing so i'm taking my creative liberties and running with them. also i can't remember if protego works on physical objects so i'm saying it does because fuck canon anyway
> 
> "ti'n iawn" roughly means "you're okay" in welsh. google translate will tell you that it should be rydych chi'n iawn but that's a very formal translation that just sounds weird  
> remus is welsh because i'm welsh and i'm projecting onto my comfort character
> 
> i'm posting this during women's history months so this is your reminder to support trans women! sisters, not cis-ters


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